My Load to Bear
by MiaLunaAmore
Summary: Some wonder how Hermione got into her current profession, when she had the entire world at her feet as a war heroine. But Hermione felt herself pulled into her position as Ministress for Social Conduct. When she finds herself in a situation where she meets an old 'friend' how does she walk the personal/professional line to help? Trigger warning; mild abuse in start w/ references
1. Where It All Began

**A/N: Hi guys, this is my first HP fic, so please give me a little credit if things aren't the best they possibly could be (and constructive criticism is always appreciated!) This is a Dramione fic, but some things need to be set up before the story really gets going. Hope you enjoy My Load to Bear!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Just my imagination.**

"Hermione, who the hell is that?" Ron looked over my shoulder at my scrapbook that had just arrived by owl, care of my parents. "And why isn't the picture moving? Were you pretending to be statues or some silly Muggle thing like that?"

I sighed internally. It seemed that Ron would never get accustomed to the fact that Muggle pictures didn't move, along with dozens of other 'normal' things from the non-wizarding world, despite the fact that his father was a Muggle fanatic. That was one of the many reasons I knew I would never end up dating Ron; I couldn't stand to repeat and explain things to people who didn't care in the first place. Luckily, Harry spoke up before I could.

"It's a Muggle picture, Ron. They don't move, remember? But he's probably not important. He doesn't go to school with us, does he 'Mione?" I shook my head.

"Nope, that's someone I met before both of you, back when I grew up in London. His name's Jake." I quirked a smile, remembering when I first got my Hogwarts letter, and he immediately shook the owl, trying to see where his had presumably gone. To his surprise, however, there was none. "He used to be my best friend." I have to keep myself from letting my face change into the grimace it feels necessary to use because of the past tense. Ron's eyes narrow at this title. Jealousy was not a feeling he hid well. I supposed that could be due to his fiery temper and limited emotional range. It was only a step down from anger, after all.

"Then why the bloody hell haven't we heard of him before? We're your best friends after all; shouldn't we have had a chance to check him out?" Ron began to flip through the pages, seeing just how many photos from my childhood included Jake, except until after the age of sixteen, where the pictures just stopped entirely. "And what happened? He just disappears from this book of your life?" I've never seen Ron act so belligerent since he found out I was going with Victor Krum to the Yule Ball. Then again, Jake wasn't so happy when he found out about Victor either. As I later found out.

"Because he's irrelevant at this point," I say, trying to shrug off his questions. I really don't want to get into this. It's one of the few things I've successfully managed to hide from Ron, which had been somewhat easy considering we were fighting the Darkest Wizard in all history. My issues became slightly less significant in the long scheme of things. Harry had managed to weasel it out of me during Ron's fling with Lavender Brown though. He had noticed I was hurt more than just by Ron being thicker than normal.

"We're your bloody best friends, Hermione. I think we deserve the right to know. Or maybe you don't consider us important enough to confide in." Ron crosses his arms and looks at me expectantly. I wince, feeling guilt at his statement.

"Ron, you know that's not true. 'Mione just doesn't always speak up. And we have had quite the busy life for the past decade or so. You know, defeating Voldemort and all that?" Harry snidely asks, trying to protect me from answering. He's always been protective of me, ever since he found out. Seeing as I appreciate it, I can't stop my eyes from glancing at him, silently thanking him. Unfortunately, Ron catches this exchange.

"What's going on?" He asks suspiciously. Harry tries to clear his face of any knowledge, but unfortunately, Ron seems to be tuning into others' emotions for possibly the first time in his life. Just my luck. "What do you know that I don't?" I squeeze my eyes shut before taking a deep breath to explain.

"It's a long story, Ron, and it happened right before Sixth Year, when you were slightly preoccupied with Lavender and its nothing to concern yourself wi-"

"For the love of Merlin, just TELL me, Hermione," He says, starting to get worked up. He's getting upset for the wrong reasons, and it starts to anger me a bit. This isn't his issue to be upset about, it's my problem. "Unless this 'Jake' bloke is so bloody special that you can't talk about him to BOTH of your bloody mates." This time, it's my turn to narrow my eyes. "So can you please just let me know what the hell-"

"He threw me through the air, Ron. For no reason other than the fact that he felt like it, and had no issue with treating me like I was an unimportant, inconsequential rag doll to use as his plaything. Which I found to be reason enough to kick him the fuck out of my life. Left six bruises in the shapes of his fingerprints on my arms. On my sweet sixteen, no less. So excuse me for holding tight to something that greatly affected me during a time which you were too busy snogging another girl to notice I was falling apart." My fingers ghost over the insides and outers of my wrists; as well as the crook of my elbow which were the places that Jake had left the bruises. Tears began welling up in my eyes as Harry put his arm around me, trying to comfort me as he glared at Ron, who was beginning to resemble a fish with his mouth slightly agape and eyes bugging out slightly at my confession. Immediately, memories began flooding back.


	2. Reliving the Nightmare

**AN- Warning, abuse scene in here; I don't believe its too graphic, but the 'M' rating is there, just in case. And for the future scenes as well seeing as this is a romantic fanfic, after all. I hope you guys enjoy, and gain a little perspective. :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series. Which truly is a tragedy. **

"_Come on, Hermione!" Jake called, waving me over. "Mum's got a strawberry tart waiting for you, and I've got your present." I practically ran, acting more like I was six, instead of my newly-turned sixteen. Jake always made everything so much brighter. I'd been in love with him since I first met him; he was the most charismatic person I knew, even as a child of eight at the time. He always made me laugh, and he shined like the sun, and I just rotated around him, trying for any chance to bask in his warmth. It was hard to be away from him for so long during the year, but we spent each summer together as though nothing had changed. "There you are," he said as I came to him, putting his arms around me. "Can't have you getting away, can I?" he quirked an eyebrow at me as I pretended to try and escape. I started laughing as I feebly tried pushing against his arms. Instead of loosening and setting me free, his arms constricted tighter. All of a sudden, something felt wrong._

"_Jake?" I asked, actually trying to push my way out, but to no avail. His arms were like iron shackles, binding me close; too close for comfort. I was panicking. I felt trapped. All of a sudden, his voice was gruff and in my ear._

"_You thought I wouldn't find out, eh, Hermione? About your little Quidditch 'friend'?" Ice ran in my veins. Why was he upset? We'd had an unspoken rule that we were free to date anyone we wanted and it wasn't to upset our friendship. Plus, it wasn't as though he had feelings for me, after all. He dated girls left and right all year long. "Remember when you sent your Mum that Daily Prophet? It had a shot of that stupid broomstick chaser with his arm around you at some dance." My mind flashed back to the Yule Ball, when someone must have unwittingly snapped a picture of Viktor and I. "Looked awfully cozy with him. And quite a lot of skin was showing." At this, he stroked the spot near my collarbone, under my neck and quite close to another particular area I didn't feel comfortable with him being near. "Is it because you shagged him, you little slag?" The accusation hits me like a slap against the face. Then, I'm slammed against a wall, my wrists being held behind me in one of Jake's hands. I let out a cry and he sneers at me._

"_Jake, what are you doing? What's the pro-"_

"_You don't belong to him! Who the bloody hell let you think that you could sleep around and just go wherever the fuck you like, you piece of shite?! You're mine, you worthless thing. Mine!" I crumple to the ground, crying hysterically, shirking from his voice. He pulls at me. "Get up, you little slag! Get up!" When I refuse, he grabs my arms and picks me up, and tossing me so I spin through the air and hit the ground hard. I feel like a piece of trash. Like I'm just as worthless and useless as he thinks. I don't move, just hoping that this has ended. He scoffs at me and throws a small box at me. "Happy fucking birthday." _

_I raise myself up slowly as he walks away, in shock of what's happened. I numbly reach for the box and open it. Inside is a silver necklace. One that has a small charm with an engraving that reads 'Mine'. I am immediately sick._

After this rush of memories slows, I feel tears surfacing to my eyes. I mutter the incantation to extract this memory for the Penseive for Ron and retrieve it with my wand. I simply don't have it in me to explain. Harry rushes to grab a glass container, and helps catch it. As soon as he hands it off to Ron, Harry comes back and comforts me.

"There, there, 'Mione. It's okay. He's never going to see you again, remember?" Harry's words are able to comfort me and help me breathe normally again. After it all happened, I made it back to my house, where my parents immediately wanted to press charges, but didn't, thanks to my pleading. I just wanted to get away, and never see Jake again. I threw the necklace into the fire that very night. I wrote Harry, and he immediately came to see me; asking no questions until I was ready to talk. It's been five years since that night. And now, I've become a completely different person.

Ron surfaces from the Penseive and looks around to locate me. As soon as he does, he slowly makes his way towards Harry and I and rubs my back in as comforting a manner as he can muster up. I smile. Though he has the emotional range of a teaspoon, he did learn some things in the ten years we've been together as a group. I revel in the serenity that being with my friends gives me, even after reliving a memory as horrific as that one was. And I look at how far I've come.

That experience shook me. Not surprising, seeing as it was a large blow from someone I had known for eight years and had considered to be one of my closest friends. My self-esteem went to pieces. If I hadn't doubted myself before, I certainly did now. Being able to throw myself into helping Harry and Ron discover and destroy Horcruxes and destroy Voldemort gave me a goal. Something to focus on. Even though my self-esteem and worth had been ripped to shreds, having something to help further a good cause made me feel...decent. Redeemable. Not as worthless as I had been made to feel. And now look where I was. Celebrating my twenty-first birthday at my new flat with my best friends before I headed off to work as the Ministress of Social Conduct at the Ministry of Magic. A new title created for a position in social justice and rehabilitating victims of the war, addiction, cruelty, and abuse. Something that as a heroine of war and a victim of abuse, I could wholeheartedly work in.

And now, with that memory fueling me, I felt as though I could take on the world. Well, after a slice of cake, at least.


End file.
